


Informal Meetings

by mythomagicallydelicious



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Mind Games, U DECIDE, hidden identity, implied one-sided essek/caleb, post traveler con, sexual tension or regular tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:00:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28604880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythomagicallydelicious/pseuds/mythomagicallydelicious
Summary: Essek likes a good mystery to unravel, and this stranger presenting him with a personal puzzle intrigues him more than he wants to admit.
Relationships: Artagan/Essek Thelyss
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	Informal Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> Pretend that sometime after Travelercon that the mighty nein visited Rosohna and Jester told Essek all about it and the craziness that happened there.

“And who might you be?” Essek asks, unfolding his hands beneath his robes and preparing to grab his spell components, if necessary. The figure in the green cloak raises its head slightly, and Essek catches the hint of a devilish smile before it ducks back to the shadows.

“Well, I’ve been told I’m ‘super cool,’” the voice says. There’s humor in his tone and though Essek does not outwardly show it, his mind starts spinning.

“And that is supposed to announce your identity how, exactly?” he asks, keeping his voice even.

“Hmm, how about a guessing game? I’ve heard much about you, curious young drow, and how enchanted by mysteries you can be.” The figure steps closer, less than a foot from him now. The voice is a breathy whisper in his mind— _a spell—_ that entices. “Why don’t I give you clues, and let you _unravel_ me?”

Essek’s breath catches in his throat and he swallows thickly. A challenge, then.

In between a blink Essek is standing alone, the figure vanished from view. He turns sharply and checks for the other, but to no avail. A bit of wind causes ripples in his robes, the ends flowing upwards. _Wait_.

Essek makes a few gestures, recalling the words and completing a _Dispel Magic_ at 5th level. Immediately the creature is visible again, one hand in a lazy wave, the source of the wind gust that had messed up his robes.

“Mm, spoilsport. Any guesses, shadowhand?” the figure asks, waving again. Essek sees the hooded cloak phase between emerald green to darker than a night sky’s black as he waits.

“I do not appreciate being toyed with,” Essek says instead, narrowing his eyes.

“Oh, but I love to be _toying_ , dear elf. It is, after all, my nature.” The figure flashes from his place by the wall and is suddenly behind Essek, leaning in so his breath tickles Essek’s ears. “I do so love to _fuck_ with people. Especially those that look like they **need** it,” they whisper. The double entendre is not lost in the rich timber of the other’s voice. Essek can’t suppress the shiver that races down his spine.

The other chuckles low, mouth still to Essek’s ear. It’s too intimate, too assuming—

Essek twirls in place, another spell on his lips. He’s caught them by surprise—the other hasn’t retreated back yet, still gloating. He throws gold dust through the air and it shimmers between the two of them in suspended animation. Minute dancing particles ticking down the elements and limitations of the spell. It affects the perception of the passage of time. Essek can move and speak at his regular ability, but all in the area of the spell are stuck in an aware suspension. Their minds untouched, but their bodies basically frozen, the perception of time passing at a glacial pace.

Essek smirks, gliding forward to the figure captured in his spell. He appraises the figure from a few angles before lifting a hand to the hood of the other’s cloak, pausing with his fingers gripping the fabric.

“You’ll find that I am a very busy man, with no time for games of your sort. However, I am intrigued, and will conduct an investigation on my own terms.”

With that he pushes the hood back, letting it fall and coming face to face with the other. The first thing that stands out is the mass of curly red hair spilling from their head and clean past the shoulders. Their eyebrows are bushy, equally as bright, and _long_ , curving off the sides of their face and curling at the ends.

What next strikes Essek are their ears. Elven, obviously, but much, much longer than any pair he’d witnessed before. They jutted out from either side of the entity’s head, curling out and back, almost in a spiral behind the rambunctious, bushy red hair.

Finally he notices the eyes. Almond colored and configured similar to his own. Even frozen, there is life dancing in the other’s eyes. Intelligence, sharp, and a devious curl to their lips that feels extremely familiar to Essek for a moment. He tries focusing on that thought—but he can’t conjure where he’d seen that _smile_ before. Perhaps when there wasn’t an ancient elf staring at him, he’d remember.

“Interesting,” Essek gives. The other cannot react, and Essek presses his advantage. Time to turn this trickster’s methods back on them.

Essek, touch feather-light, traces down the entity’s forehead. He thumbs over one long, curly eyebrow before continuing his trek down the lines of their face. Laughter lines radiate from the edge of their mouth, at odds with the devious curl their lips currently hold. He chucks their chin and thinks carefully before his next “exploration.”

“If I were a darker man, this spell allows me the _time_ and _space_ to do whatever I want,” he says, voice cold and eyes hard as stone.

Essek lifts his hand to trace delicately over the long, arched ear, following its curve to the tip.

“But unless I am pressed and _toyed_ with, those thoughts never even cross my mind,” he says lightly, voice softened.

Essek moves one space back, giving the other some imagined sense of personal space.

“You are clearly of the fey—a trickster, manipulator. You said it was in your nature. I admit, something about you is tickling my memory, but more research is necessary, it seems,” he says.

The gold dust is slowly, gently, drifting to the floor. Essek has been keeping an internal count on the length of the spell.

He draws both hands from within his own cloak now, going to the clasp at the other’s neck.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Essek asks. In the same moment he allows the time-stop spell to drop, watching in fascination as the entity’s features change rapidly. Subjected for the first time to this spell, Essek notes, as the other takes a sharp breath and finally finds their equilibrium again.

Their eyes go from Essek’s to the fingers at his throat and back up to Essek’s eyes. Their smile grows, baring some of their teeth, enhancing the atmosphere of danger.

“And here I was assuming you to be the gentleman, _Essek_ ,” they say, raising one ridiculous eyebrow. Essek’s face twitches at hearing his own name, but otherwise refuses to react. “I’d been informed that you were ‘more respectful than that,’ and ‘ _not interested in such things.’”_

They lift one hand to the top of their cloak, hovering over Essek’s hands. “Lying to your friends is so second-nature it doesn’t even register, does it, my dear?”

Essek narrows his eyes, heart picking up its face. “How do you know of that conversation?” he hisses. Where his hands had been gripping lightly before, he has tightened them until his knuckles pale slightly at the force exerted. He feels the cloth in his hands stretching under his grasp.

“Ah, ah,” the other _tsks_. “No spoilers. You have to guess all on your own, handsome. Why don’t you check my pockets for hints? It’s a bit stuffy in here, wouldn’t you say?” they ask as they undo the clasp themselves and step right up against Essek.

He’s still holding the cloak, though with the fey’s movement it is behind the other in his death grip. His elbows are resting on their shoulders and that devilish smirk is mere centimeters from his own face, still laughing at him.

Essek drops the cloak and starts to move backwards, out of the entity’s space, but they move with him. Then push him, not hard, but plainly until Essek’s back meets the chamber’s wall.

“C’mon,” they implore, their hands ghosting across Essek’s own impeccable robes. “Why don’t we both get a little more comfortable, hmm?” Deft fingers undo the straps holding his mantle in place, tossing it casually to the floor without looking. Essek swallows thickly as their fingers slip between the folds of his outer robe as well, pushing it off his shoulders to pool to the floor beneath him.

“Still don’t know who I am?” they ask, eyes glittering. “You’re halfway there already. Perhaps a reminder—“they muse over it, rolling their neck to one side and looking him up and down.

“As I’ve said, I’ve been told I’m ‘super cool,’ and I can give you _all_ the power—” They lean further, pressing their bodies together”— _if_ you don’t mind calling out praise to my name.”

Essek tilts his head back and lets the other press them closer. He draw the fragments and clues he’s been given and a pseudonym is sparked at the same time anger floods him. But he holds his temper and prepares to cast if he isn’t answered to satisfaction.

“Do you court all of your followers this way?” Essek asks, hooking one hand in the other’s hair, combing through it and getting caught in snarling tangles. His other hand ticks its way down their chest, sliding into one of the offered pockets. “If so, I can’t imagine your efforts have garnered much fruit.”

The other laughs again. “She wasn’t wrong. You are quite clever, I see. Good.”

Essek tightens his grip in their hair, pulling back until their chin is forced up. “Answer my question, fey,” he says in a dangerous voice. “Or you shall not enjoy my method of _unravelling_. You have my word.”

Their laughter drops at the sharp tug but the smile stays. “No. I thought it would be fun to play with you, in particular. A challenge, just for fun. Because you intrigue me, handsome.”

Their hands glide over Essek’s chest and down his sides, rounding to curve around his ass.

“You caught my interest, fancy man, and then watching a bit closer, you caught my fancy,” the other says, kneading Essek’s ass brazenly now. They leer at him, eyes narrowed in mocking calculation.

“And if I do not return these fanciful notions you have, stranger? What then?” Essek asks, hand slipping from their pocket and running a course down to their thigh, tapping lightly.

“You callous man, would I stoop so low?” they ask with a lofty jut of their chin. The hands release his ass, though, and tread swiftly back up to Essek’s shoulders. A respectable place even though their bodies are still mere centimeters from touching. “A trickster I may be, but I’m not a monster. If this is not to your liking, I could always change for you,” they say.

There’s a flash of green light and in his arms now is the likeness of Caleb Widogast. A slightly stubbly chin, red hair long and pulled back with a piece of leather. Delicate hands with tough calloused palms on the back of his neck. Fractured eyes, usually heavy with grief, are laughing at him now.

Essek jerks back, forgetting he is pinned, and slams his head into the wall. Cursing, he pushes back against the other’s chest. Before he can even get a spell off, the other has changed back and has taken a few steps back. Bent double, laughing.

“Oh, the _look_ on your face, oh yes. _Priceless_ ,” they laugh, wiping a tear from their eyes.

Essek feels his cheeks heat rapidly, and the anger and embarrassment flares within him.

“And would you prefer I take the form of the Moonweaver, Traveler? To properly serve you a _punishment_ for your careless tricks?” Essek snaps back, fists clenched.

The Traveler stands tall, a hand clutching at his heart. “Oh, a harsh blow,” he says, stumbling back a few steps and falling straight to the floor.

Where there should be a **thump** as they fall back, there is nothing. The form scattering to shadows and vibrant green leaves.

Essek takes a step forward, hands up and waiting to cast. He feels justified in his caution when, moments later, a voice whispers in his mind, “ _But fair’s fair, my dear drow. What do you say we keep our forms as is and make this a night to remember?”_

Essek hears the _Sending_ spell and takes a moment to consider. Despite the trick and the flush still lingering on his cheeks, he can’t deny the intrigue the other has held for him so far. And he can’t remember the last time beyond the brief flirtation of friendship within the Mighty Nein that he has felt _wanted_. Even temporarily.

 _“One night sounds a fine arrangement, **if** you give me a name other than Traveler_,” he replies.

The air is still as Essek waits for a reply. A soft gust of wind announces their arrival once more, and he turns, taking his time to look the other over from head to toe.

“I suppose saying “the traveler” is a bit unwieldy to be caught in the throes of passion with. I’ll give you a name, if you promise to bring that delightful time spell back into use. I’ve got… _ideas_.”

Essek glides over to the other, one hand reaching into a pocket to cradle the gold dust component of the _Time Stop_ spell.

“That is agreeable to me, ---?” He leaves room in his sentence, waiting for the other to give him a name.

“Keelyn,” they finish, smile growing wider.

“Keelyn,” Essek agrees, licking his lips and gliding closer, already enjoying the feeling of the other’s arms reaching around him.

**Author's Note:**

> Essek uses they/them for Artagan because he doesn't know what the other being is or uses, but once he realizes it's Jester's "Traveler" he starts throwing in he/him for Artagan too. If that confused anyone, that's why.
> 
> Also I know the power dynamics may have seemed back and forth, and that was intentional. It was supposed to feel almost dubious but each man definitely had an interest in the other and both were able to stop the other in their tracks if they wished.


End file.
